by Maxi MacNair
“Goodnight.”
He left her in the bathroom. The stockings were a total loss, she pulled them off and threw them in the trash. Her dress was stretched in weird ways, but it was dark out, so she figured she could make it out without drawing too much attention.
She fixed her lipstick. She’d told the truth. She was relaxed. Tonight she’d sleep like the dead, something that didn’t happen very often at all. Once she decided she was presentable, she left the bathroom, the bar, and took a cab home. She was more than a little worried the people in the bar knew they did, but as she climbed the stairs to her apartment the way her body felt was more than worth the possibility some random strangers thought bad of her. What did she care, she was probably never going to see any of them ever again. Matter of fact, she was probably never going to see James again either.
* * *
James got back to his Penthouse apartment about twenty minutes later. He found himself in something of a state of shock. She didn’t want him. Women always wanted him. She’d only wanted to screw and then leave…
His plan was to lure her in. Get her to want to see him again. Have sex a bunch of times while he got inside information on where the investigation was going, and whether he had something to worry about.
When James’ plans don’t work out it frustrates him, and this woman had messed with his plan just as much as that idiot Blitzen did. Hell, it was her job to make sure that all his big plans get messed up, but that even wasn’t all that bothered him, though. What really ate at him was the fact that he now felt like he wanted her. Something about her excited him, and not just her being the detective working on his case. He loved how she’d been so free and blunt and yet so submissive. He wanted to hold her, to have her again…there were so many more things he’d like to do with her and to her.
Usually, he played the forward and aggressive game with the girls and they giggled and pretended like they wanted him to stop. Randi though called him on it and took him up on it. Worse yet, it felt like she was the one getting what she wanted. James didn’t like not having the power in this situation. But it was also so hot to be with her. He couldn’t believe how he felt while he was having sex with her. It was like her body was a ball of heat, and this heat consumed him until he totally lost his plans, his games, who he was, and became nothing but his desire for this other body.
He needed to talk to her again. If only to feel that way again.
It could never work out. James had given up on the idea that he would have a relationship while he was living the life he was. He didn’t want one to begin with. For James, there were only his plans and the jobs. Scoring as much cash as he could and disappearing forever before anything could catch up to him, but he couldn’t ignore what he just felt being with another person. Maybe this was all in his mind. The thought of seeing if this was true by getting to do that with Randi again made him more excited than he thought it would.
He busied himself examining a floorplan for Fairlee First National bank, trying to imagine how he’d stage this heist that he had been planning for a long time. Bank robbing got less and less lucrative as time went on, and he knew he’d have to switch gears soon enough. He’d need a new plan before much longer. Especially from the results of his last project. One man dead. He never worked with the same guys twice, and with the results of the last job, the pool of talent was obviously getting a bit shallow.
James kneaded at his temples, then went to his bedroom and changed out of his suit, into sweats. He could smell her on his clothes. Damn, he wanted her. It made him want to keep his shirt from the laundry so he could breathe her perfume when he missed her.
In his past life, he’d tried to find other work. He couldn’t. No one wanted to hire a veteran with a dishonorable discharge. So what if his discharge came for a damn good reason, it still gave him a huge black mark. Nobody ever gave him a chance so he took what he needed. It took some learning but now he could take more than he needed. But why not have a fine life, if only as a screw you to everyone who said he wouldn’t amount to anything.
At one point in his life James Moore believed if he worked hard and did what was right then he would always get what he needed and deserved. The night this belief ended was one he thought about often.
After his second tour of Afghanistan, back at Fort Bragg in North Carolina, he’d been out at a bar with some of his friends, JT and Mark. It was a nice night. Everyone having a good time. James had been promoted, was about to head back to Afghanistan for a third time. He wasn’t happy about it, but his unit was solid, and he loved the Army. Plus it was his birthday and the three of them were determined to have a good time.
“Is that Vince?” JT had asked, pointing to where a beefy guy loomed over a petite Filipino woman.
It was indeed. Vince their Commanding Officer. James had seen him do some sketchy shit overseas, but the unit pulled through, sometimes because of him and sometimes despite of him. There was no doubt James had some respect for Vince, but he also knew what he was capable of. Now he was all up on this poor woman. Not letting her get away.
“Ignore it, man,” Mark said. “We got a big day tomorrow.”
Not proud of himself, James tried. They shot some pool. Mark started talking with a gorgeous woman who may or may not have been a hooker. James saw Vince lead the girl out the back of the bar. Her voice carried enough for him to hear her say “no” over the ambient din.
“I gotta help her.” He shoved his stool back and stood up, made for the door.
Stepped out into the cool North Carolina night. The parking lot seemed quiet, cars sitting in pools of streetlights. Nothing moved. Had he been mistaken?
Then he heard a quick yelp from his left, and all his training flooded back to him. He dropped to a crouch and made his way around the building.
Vince was hitting the woman. From here, James could hear him muttering “you should want this.”
James saw red and charged. Hauled Vince off, rank be damned. The woman slumped to a puddle on the damp pavement. He punched and he punched, Vince’s face turning into red pulp.
He barely remembered JT and Mark pulling him off. Barely remembered the cops coming.
It didn’t matter because he’d been too late anyway. The coroner thought Vince’s first hit to the woman killed her, a lucky strike to the head which dropped her without a chance. And Vince? He was still alive. Technically. Connected to tubes in a coma he’d never wake up from.
James did some jail time. Was dishonorably discharged. Could never work again.
He moved cities, changed his look, changed his name, but nothing worked for long. That one night always seemed to catch up to him no matter what he did. Until one night. He was washing dishes in a dive bar. Trying to string together a few dollars to buy some groceries after he came up with enough to pay his rent, which was now almost ten days late. He was surprised to hear a voice call out his name and turned to see Mark behind him smiling.
Mark told him he had been trying to track him down for weeks, and he had a job to do that he knew he would be perfect for. The job was to knock over a bank in a small town. Mark had gotten in with a professional and they needed a third to do the plan. James didn’t think too long about it. He had had enough taken from him in his life. It was time to take some back.
The three of them worked for two weeks on an abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere. Going through every detail of every part of the plan over and over. James could say he learned almost everything he knew in those two weeks. Especially that knowing the plan and sticking to the plan no matter what happens is what make the jobs work, and this job went off without a hitch. The score was more than James had ever seen in his life, there was no going back to the dish pit again, and he now had the formula to make sure he never went back to jail again either.
He never stole from someone unless it was insured. He couldn’t stand the idea of a crime harming an individual, particularly one who couldn’t afford it, and these tellers and security guards wo
uldn’t risk their lives to save a huge bank’s money. His first few jobs were with Mark and soon Mark got frustrated with the careful planning that James forced them to go through for every job.
“Look, I’ve got this tip for tonight,” said Mark the last time James saw him. “It’s gonna be a huge haul, but it’s gotta be tonight.”
“You know what I think about it. I’m not gonna just rush in and do this with a plan we scratch out a few hours before the job. It’s not how I wanna do things.”
Mark just walked away determined he was gonna keep all the money for himself then. The job was for a brinks truck in an area outside the city Mark had never been to. Mark had no idea he needed a different key from each guard to open the back of the truck. His plan was to wait for the one guard to walk away and pull a gun on the other one, grabbing as much cash as he could while he only needed to watch one guard. The plan didn’t work and soon Mark was running through a field with an empty bag and no idea where to go with a police helicopter chasing him. He went away for a long time, and that was the end of James ever working a job with someone that knew him and one that he didn’t plan himself.
With more money than he knew what to do with, and even bigger scores planned out in his head he took on the name of James Moore. One thing still tied him to that old life though: the family of the murdered woman that he should’ve saved when he first saw what was happening. James almost had enough for himself to live off of forever, but he needed to do something for that family, which meant more scores and secret deposits of cash every few months into the family account to make sure the family would have everything they needed, despite not having their mother.
Maria, the youngest, would be twelve soon. He planned to keep the money coming at least until she turned eighteen. If this string of plans he had already set in motion went like it should, he should be set not too long after Christmas. So, another job. For now, another bank. This time, the Fairlee First National bank.
3
Since Devon died, Randi couldn’t come. She’d slept with one man exactly once since his passing, another detective at work after a particularly rough case, and while the other detective did everything in his power to get her off, she couldn’t do it. Not even at home in a hot bath with her vibrator. The memory of that night in the bar bathroom with James Moore was sticking with Randi.
His hand had quested up her thigh, met her pantyhose, and tore them at the crotch.
“Sorry,” he muttered into her mouth.
She moaned. She’d soaked through her thong with her excitement. He eased it to one side, and slid one finger in, then another, then a third, excited by how receptive her body was.
He broke the kiss, yanked her skirt up over her hips, and bent her over the sink. He dropped to his knees, pulled her thong to one side, and lapped up all her juices. Pleasure and the drink assaulted her, and her legs felt wobbly. He held her up, kissing, licking and teasing her.
She let her eyes close and experienced him, giving herself up completely. He backed off for a moment, and she heard the buckle of his belt, the whir of his zipper, the rustle of his pants. Then she felt the tip of his cock probing at her cleft. She leaned back into him. He rubbed himself up and down her wetness, the soft head rubbing her clit and making her cry out. He dragged himself all the way up, working her wetness into her a little. She wanted him everywhere, all over her, she wanted it all.
He plunged in and she found him huge, stretching her. She let out a long, delighted groan as she rocked back into him. Once he established his rhythm, hard and fast, he reached around and freed her tits from her dress. One cupped in each hand he worked her nipples, pinching and pulling while he pounded her from behind.
She came as James came, simultaneous rockets being launched. She shuddered and bucked and he squeezed onto her, letting her do the work of riding him to orgasm. She collapsed against the sink as they finished together.
* * *
“I got laid last night.” Randi told Chris while they sat at a red light in the Impala, heading to the First National Bank for another look at the scene.
“I could tell something was different about you. You seem more…human.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Serious thing?”
“Nope. Cold, animal sex. Nothing more to it. Slam, bam, thank you sir.”
“Good for you.”
It bothered Randi though that she hadn’t asked him to use a condom. She’d thought of it in the moment, but something about the riskiness turned her on. She’d make an appointment to get tested soon. In the aftermath, she was embarrassed by not taking precautions. It would have been just as sexy if they’d have to wait the fifteen seconds it took to be safe.
Nothing to be done now.
They parked out front of the bank, turning on the blue lights hidden in the grill and back bumper. It was snowing again today, and the blue lights made the falling flakes sparkle. The manager met them, ringing her hands. She’d never seen a dead person before, never seen violence before, and even a day later seemed to waffle on the edge of shock. The bank was closed, and their footfalls and voices echoed in the large marble room.
“Bella, did you eat this morning?” Randi knew how important it was to keep the body fed, even when your mind didn’t seem to want it, and Bella needed someone to look out for her after what she had went through yesterday while the bank she worked at was getting robbed.
“I ate something. Not much. I couldn’t—I keep seeing that man, them shooting him. I—I could hear the bullets hitting his body. I saw him fall.”
“You have to eat. You have to get some rest. It’s okay to take some time off. Okay to take a break.”
When Bella left, Chris whispered in her ear “You should take your own advice.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“Not a joke. I’m not the one getting banged in bar bathrooms.”
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
“You’re stressed and overworked. You always get this way this time of year. You stop being you and now I guess that means you do stuff like sleep with random guys in bathrooms.”
Her comment killed Randi’s good mood. Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She excused herself to answer it.
“The internet says a gentleman should always call a lady the day after the first time they make love.”
James. Calling her. Talking about what they did the night before as making love. “Uh, hi.”
“How are you doing?”
“Great. Good. Busy. At work. This isn’t really a good time.”
“Okay, well, you want to give me a call sometime when you’re free?”
“Sure, I’ll do that. I’m busy though so don’t expect anything today,” and she hung up and turned around to see Chris staring at her.
“Is that the guy from last night?” Chris had a husband at home and three kids, and felt very strongly about family. Of course she did, her husband was amazing. He had a career and put it on hold to stay home and take care of the kids. It was hard at first, but now he had a few online business going and Chris was able to keep her job doing what she loved in the police department. Chris wanted the best for Randi, of course, but she also held this crazy idea that everyone had someone out there, and everyone had the potential to be happy. Not so, Randi knew all too well. “Not all of us get to be so lucky as you Chris,” Randi thought to herself every time Chris started to get all big sisterly with her.
“None of your business.”
“You just totally blew him off.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to see him again.”
“I thought you said he was good.”
“He was.”
“And handsome…?”
“Yeah…”
“So…”
“I wanted to get my rocks off. Let it go, Chris.”
“I worry about you.” Chris backed off, then, leaving her alone. Was she being too harsh on James? She hadn’t even really gotten to know him. Maybe she
should give him a shot…
No. She wasn’t into a relationship right now, probably ever, even with someone who seemed to have it all together.
* * *
The bank robbery confounded Randi, and she kept putting off going to the doctor. Some days James and their one night stand slipped out of her memory altogether. The case exhausted her. After work she’d come home and crash on her couch, no energy to go out, to see friends. Christmas came and went. Devon’s parents invited her to spend the day with them, and she declined, promising she’d see them after the New Year, when things quieted down. She knew she needed to eat better, knew she was gaining a little weight. Her boobs were sore, so she knew her period must be coming, though oftentimes when she got really into a case she’d stress herself into missing them.
Finally Devon’s sister insisted they meet for coffee on a Tuesday morning. Randi worked almost sixteen straight hours the day before, talking to a witness upstate who, it turned out, hadn’t seen anything. So she had a little time where she could meet Kellyn for a quick cup. They met at Starbucks, Randi got her latte, and sat down.
By the time Kellyn joined her, she’d deduced the milk in the latte was bad. So disappointing when you pay almost five dollars for a drink and they use spoiled milk. Kellyn took her seat as Randi went back up to the barista.
She returned with a second drink, sipped it when it got cold, and grimaced.
“Does this taste weird to you?” She thrust her drink at Kellyn, who sipped it, and told her it tasted fine.
“Are you kidding?”
“Are you getting sick?”
“No, I’ve been super run down lately. The bank robbery at First National. I’m exhausted, and I can’t figure out why.”
Kellyn squinted at her. “Have you been eating a lot?”
Ouch. Now Kellyn was calling her fat? “I mean, it’s winter. I’m trying to hibernate. I mean, as much as my job lets me.”
“Any weird cravings?”
What was this, an interrogation? “No. Just hungry and tired. You know. Winter?”
